


Joke's On You

by cloudsarefluffy



Series: Ask and Ye Shall Recieve (Tumblr Ask Box Prompts) [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Almanac Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Puns, Cute Derek, Derek Feels, Derek Has a Horrible Sense of Humor, Derek is a Good Alpha, Derek is a Softie, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Crack, Future Fic, Happy Derek, I made it Mature just in case, M/M, Mpreg, No Angst, Oblivious Derek, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Pack Dad Derek Hale, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Payback, Poor Stiles Stilinski, Pregnancy Surprise, Pregnant Stiles, Prompt Fill, Reveal, Scott is a Failwolf, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles is Legal, Stiles is trying to become a teacher, There's like a sort of flashback to smut, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Unplanned Pregnancy, but he tries, but it's not too bad, dad jokes, for a small bit, oh also Derek and Stiles have been dating for more than just two months, since he knows so many random factoids, werewolves are known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsarefluffy/pseuds/cloudsarefluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Tumblr, Anon asked: <i>Sterek mpreg please: "The thing is, Derek loves to tell awful dad jokes to me two months after we're dating. Well, joke's on him now cos he's gonna be a dad soon. Not now, Scott! In seven months, maybe?" AU</i></p><p>---</p><p>So there’s this bad habit Derek has, right? Like, whenever Stiles tries to do something like a <i>regular</i> human being, Derek just— Stiles is ashamed to say this, he just cracks the <i>worst jokes ever.</i> Because it’s <i>dad jokes.</i> Stiles thinks it might be Derek trying to make himself an equal in terms to Stiles’ own humor, but it’s not— it’s not exactly working… </p><p>  <b>OR</b> </p><p>How Stiles manages to turn the tables on Derek via clever thinking and the printing services offered by his local Staples.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joke's On You

**Author's Note:**

> This was such a cute fic to write, and let me just say I'm not too fond of dad jokes either. :P
> 
> All of the dad jokes I used in this fic came from this "dad joke" generator found here:  
> http://niceonedad.com
> 
> Also, with my fics, I decided that from now on, I'm going to upload at least 5 at a time to keep up with all that I have. (From Tumblr alone I have 67, this one included. Kind of a lot to deal with.) No idea if I'm going to have it on a set "date" per whatever, but just know that it's coming in groups of 5 from now on. 
> 
> Enjoy!~

Stiles never _intended_ for this to happen. 

He’s always one for a good joke — maybe throw in a follow up for good measure — but mostly, he understands that sometimes there’s a line, and you don’t cross it. Kind of like whenever Scott got bitten and turned into a werewolf. A quip about rabies probably wouldn’t have been appreciated (Stiles still didn’t waste the opportunity though, as Scott found out, whenever Stiles supplied him with his own “personalized” water dish, that he’d gotten at Dollar Tree, during his first full moon).

Still, the point remains. While Stiles likes to think of him as a savant in terms of comedy, he’s aware of and respects that boundary of what’s appropriate and what’s not.

But life, apparently, has other plans.

So there’s this bad habit Derek has, right? Like, whenever Stiles tries to do something like a _regular_ human being, Derek just— Stiles is ashamed to say this, he just cracks the _worst jokes ever._ Because it’s _dad jokes._ Stiles thinks it might be Derek trying to make himself an equal in terms to Stiles’ own humor, but it’s not— it’s not exactly working…

Like there was one time, whenever Derek participated in “No Shave November” a month or so ago, and was getting to look like a lumberjack in a beard growing contest. Stiles’ poor inner thighs couldn’t take anymore beard burn, and he _demanded_ that it be cut unless Derek wanted to forgo all sexy times until Stiles’ chafing improved. But apparently, Derek came to like the beard, because—

“I used to not like longer facial hair, but then it _grew_ on me, Stiles.”

And oh, if Stiles could just— . . . 

Or, there’s also the time that they were grocery shopping for healthy foods that Stiles could serve whenever his father was going to visit, and they were in the produce section. Derek had moved their buggy over to the fruits, and picked up a bright green Granny Smith to mull it over.

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek asks, brow pinched, “How many apples grow on a tree?”

And okay. That’s— _unexpected,_ but Stiles doesn’t think it’s unusual necessarily. Derek sometimes asks weird questions, because he knows Stiles is like a little almanac with how many inane factoids he has memorized. So Stiles is guessing it’s one of those times, and he starts thinking it over. He’s instantly trying to foresee and average amount of apples that a tree could produce, depending on seasons and other factors, from pesticides to the breeds. He’s starting to get into the division of regional statistics on fruit bearing rates when Derek suddenly answers his own question.

He just smirks, looks at Stiles, and says, “All of them.”

Stiles nearly left the store early that night, and Derek almost had to introduce himself to a piece of furniture called their couch.

And it’s only gotten _worse._ It’s like at every turn Derek just has another joke waiting for Stiles, and Stiles, bless his own heart, isn’t expecting it whenever it comes.

“Hey, Stiles?” Derek starts one day, when they’re getting everything ready for a pack dinner— Derek is on his computer then, with his goofy (but also sexy) looking reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, as he’s Googling a recipe for roasted garlic potatoes when he asks, “How many gigabytes are in a megabyte?”

Stiles is setting the huge dining table up then, setting the mac n’ cheese and biscuits onto their placemats when he corrects his boyfriend, “Actually, a gigabyte is larger than a megabyte, so it’s the other way around in terms of what goes into what… Why do you ask?”

“Well, my computer is just running out room and I wanted to know how much space was left.”

“Oh, well there’s 1024 megabytes in a gigabyte,” Stiles smirks at his boyfriend as he walks towards Derek, only to stop as he leans on the doorway that’s between their dining and living room, “Do we need to get you more RAM and ROM?”

Derek sighs in some amount of defeat, “I’m not even sure what those things are exactly, but yes? . . . I just didn’t know I had so little room.”

“Well, what have you been downloading on there?”

The alpha pointedly looks at his screen, “Music. . .”

“Music. _Right…_ ” Stiles rolls his eyes lightly and then decides to roll with it, “Whose music did you download, then?”

“Oh, just a small band I like… They’re not really known. In fact, they haven’t gotten a gig yet.”

Huh, maybe Stiles has heard of them— after all, he’s a bit of a dark and unknown web extraordinaire.

“Oh, really? What’s their name?”

“1023MB.”

And Stiles nearly cancelled the pack dinner to teach his boyfriend that sometimes, you can’t play with his mind like that.

It’s gotten so bad that Stiles is having to hang out with Scott as often as he can, so he can spare himself from the onslaught of terrible puns and fatherly quips. The poor beta is probably tired of Stiles clambering to him like a lifeline, but Stiles doesn’t have many options.

After all, the rest of the pack thinks it hilarious. Scott just— Scott just doesn’t get it. Like he usually doesn’t. Obliviousness, it’s an immunity Stiles envies at the current moment. And also, he may envy the fact that it doesn’t mean he’s one-hundred percent aware of what’s happening right now. Or, that unlike Stiles, he isn’t able to comprehend the largest tragedy to transpire in his personal life since the only Arby’s in town closed and he could no longer get fresh curly fries.

Derek’s dad jokes, they’re— they’re—

“What do you mean ‘they’re legitimized’? Stiles, that makes absolutely no sense,” Scott argues, and Stiles watches as his best friend grabs a stack of the Avery name badges out of their stock.

“Scott, I— look, there’s been a bit of a development,” Stiles puts his card on the counter, “Do I have to buy the whole packet if I’m using just three stickers?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Well, I guess it’s not called commitment for nothing,” Stiles motions for Scott to check the item out, “But back to what I’m trying to say. Remember how we didn’t have a pack dinner this weekend like we usually do?”

Scott scans the barcode, the machine beeping monotonously before he answers with, “Yeah? What about it?”

“Well, it’s because I was supposed to have my heat then—“

“Aw, ew man— _gross,_ ” Scott sputters, sticking his tongue out like he just ate a sour candy, “TMI.”

Stiles rolls his eyes— he’s heard worse from Scott, the hypocrite, “Look, I was supposed to go into heat—” Scott makes another face, “—but I didn’t.”

Scott tilts his head, eyes narrowed in confusion, “Why not?”

“Dude, I’m a male omega. What reasons would there be for me not going into heat?”

“Well, there’s stress for one… Maybe you haven’t been taking your vitamins?”

Stiles wants to face palm, “Okay, just— I didn’t go into heat, and Derek just chalked it up to something else since I’m trying so hard to get hired at that preschool, but— . . . I had my doubts.”

As Scott slips the Avery nametags into a bag, he asks, “Doubts about what?”

“Scott, take the nametags out of the bag, I’m going to need you to print on a few of them,” Scott snorts and complies as Stiles continues, “But anyways, I had my doubts about the reasoning behind as to why I missed my heat. I mean, I’ve been working a lot to try and get this preschool job, but otherwise, I’m not too stressed, so that’s not really a cause. I’m healthy, per my doctor’s visit two months ago, so what could it really be?”

“I dunno, man. Did you ever figure it out, ‘cause if you didn’t, you came to the wrong place, man.”

“No, Scott, I didn’t come to the wrong place, because I _did_ figure it out. Of course, I needed a test to confirm my suspicions, but— . . . The jokes are ironic because Derek’s gonna be a dad soon. Well, in about eight or so months, but yeah. We’re having _a baby,_ dude.”

Scott’s eyes widen, and he stares at Stiles, “ _R-Really!?”_

“ _Yes really._ Now, I told him to meet me up here in about ten minutes with my dad, so I need you to hurry up and get printing.”

Scott looks like a solider given the ultimate duty, “Right on it, dude!”

And so Stiles tells Scott what to print onto the tags. They’re split into three sections— two with one “label” in particular, and a final containing two stickers with Stiles’ “name.” Scott looks almost giddy as he finishes the sheet, and by the time he’s swiping Stiles’ card against for the printer use, he’s almost cackling.

“Dude, I love you, but you gotta pull it together. I don’t want Derek thinking anything unusual is going on, alright?”

And with a nod, Scott goes straight-faced as soon as Derek and Stiles’ father walk through the door. 

Instantly, Stiles feels his stomach get unsettled, and he hopes that he won’t appear too anxious as Derek and his father approach.

“Hey, babe,” Derek greats with a warm smile, and he comes over, kissing Stiles on the cheek— Scott grimaces from off to the side, “What are you and Scott talking about?”

“Oh, you know, just bro stuff,” Stiles clears his throat and turns to face his boyfriend, smiling widely, “So, you remember that interview I told you I might be having?”

Derek nods, “Yeah, the one with the preschool you applied to?”

“Yes, well, I had to get nametags made for the occasion— you know, since there’s going to be kids there when you guys take me, and I thought they’d like that. I got ones for the both of you.”

“Oh, that sounds pretty cool,” and then Derek looks over to John, “But I don’t get it really… Why would your dad be coming along?”

“Oh you know, small towns— they just _love_ their sheriffs,” Stiles grins widely, and his dad merely raises a brow, “Would you like to see them?”

His dad shrugs, “Sure, son.”

And here comes the moment of truth.

Scott hands over the single sheet of labeled tags, and Stiles peels one of each off. His heart is thrumming in his chest, and he has to force his fingers to remain somewhat steady as he quickly sticks the nametags to the appropriate owner.

“Uh, Stiles, the interview isn’t today, is it? . . .” Derek asks with confusion lacing his voice.

“No, but— something special is still happening.”

Stiles is witness to both his father and Derek lifting their shirts off of their torsos a little, and it’s as his father’s face lights up that he starts smiling madly.

Derek frowns softly as he reads his aloud, “’Hello, my name is’— . . . Stiles, this isn’t my name.”

“What isn’t?”

“Whatever you put on here.”

Stiles takes in a deep breath as he peels off his own sticker from the page— meanwhile, his father just looks at Derek like an idiot, “Derek, read it again. All of it, this time, and nothing else— just what’s on your tag.”

“’Hello, my name is Imgonabeadad’…”

And, with a triumphant smile, Stiles slaps his own sticker onto his chest, boasting, “Hi, Imgonabeadad, I’m ‘Pregnant’!”

And, much to Stiles’ dismay, Derek just _blinks._

John exhales with some disappointment, “Oh, son…”

“Do you get it?” 

Scott’s head thunks against the countertop as he groans.

With a bright smile, John says, “Hi, Imgonabeadad, I’m ‘Imgonabeagranpa’.”

Stiles sighs in some amount of relief, “Okay, at least you understood.”

“Can someone _please_ tell me what’s going on?”

“Derek,” Stiles starts slowly, making sure he’s looking directly into Derek’s eyes with about as much sincerity as he can manage, “I’m pregnant.”

“Yes, I already know that. You’ve already told me what your nametag says.”

Stiles shakes his head, and he comes closer, right up until he’s in Derek’s space— he grabs one of Derek’s hands and places it right above the dip in his hips and reiterates, “Derek, I’m _pregnant._ ”

And then, as though a light bulb went off, Derek’s eyes widen much like Scott’s had, right before—

Right before he fucking _faints._

“Oh my god,” Stiles croaks, and he looks up at his father, “Dad, you—“

“Don’t worry, kid. I’ll phone it in.”

Stiles sighs and lays there with Derek, his head in Stiles’ lap as the omega wonders how in the world this outcome could’ve possibly happened as it did. From above him, Scott snorts as he coincidentally answers Stiles’ thoughts.

“Seems like he couldn’t handle the dad jokes after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> ##### Prompt me here at:
> 
> http://sunshinexlollipops.tumblr.com/promptask
> 
> ##### This was written to:
> 
> 1\. Hold Up — Beyoncé  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PeonBmeFR8o


End file.
